


The Corner of Elk and Chambers

by china_shop



Category: White Collar
Genre: Episode Tag, Fic, Gen, Hugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-29
Updated: 2010-08-29
Packaged: 2017-10-11 07:38:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/110014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/china_shop/pseuds/china_shop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Episode tag for 2.03. Spoilers up to 2.03.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Corner of Elk and Chambers

"I need to talk to you."

"Hmm?" Neal looked up from reviewing Oswald's criminology syllabus one last time before he filed it away. Peter was looming over his desk, and he looked way too grim for someone who'd just recovered a four-million Thayer intact and arrested a cartel of college criminals. "What?"

"Not here," said Peter, and jerked his head toward the door.

Neal straightened his shoulders and followed him. They rode the elevator side-by-side in silence; Peter didn't speak until they were in the street, surrounded by the bustle of office workers, couriers and the occasional homeless guy. He started walking in the direction of City Hall, and Neal kept pace and managed not to ask what was going on.

Finally, presumably having judged they were far enough from the office, Peter said, "I just got a call. Alex was stopped at Customs in Italy. Neal, did you know she took the Matisse?"

Oh hell.

"I can't say I'm surprised," said Neal. "Did they arrest her?"

"You didn't answer my question." Peter stopped and gave him that shrewd no-bullshit look that always made Neal want to run a mile. "Did you know she took the Matisse?"

Dammit! Neal should never have told him about his no-lying policy. It had spilled out in a moment of frustration—a challenge to Peter to meet him halfway and stop keeping secrets—but he should have known that Peter of all people would think through the implications. He'd be looking for Neal's loopholes now.

So. Neal could ditch his policy, but he really didn't want to. But he couldn't confess either, not in so many words. He gave Peter a helpless look, and Peter blew out an exasperated breath.

"You know that's aiding and abetting," he said, clipped and over-enunciating his t's the way he did when he was stressed or pissed off. "Dammit, Neal! A _Matisse_?"

Neal gave a tiny shrug and waited—for the cuffs or whatever lesser punishment Peter saw fit to dole out. Watched Peter struggle with the knowledge.

"If she needed the money—" he started.

"It wasn't about money," said Neal. It had been a test.

To his surprise, Peter seemed to understand. "Don't tell me—you were just letting Alex do what Alex does, trying to earn her trust after embroiling her with the FBI. I get that." He looked away down the street, and then started walking again. "But when are you going to learn that you can't play both sides of the law? I know you think we're all stuffed suits and rule-bound bureaucrats, but we can be flexible. You've seen that. Even Mozzie's starting to see that."

"Flexible enough to let a CI walk off with a priceless artwork?" asked Neal. "Peter, I put her life in danger when I talked her into getting the music box with me. I don't want her to—" He swallowed. "I need her to—" The ground seemed to tilt a little.

"I know." Peter's hand gripped his shoulder. "Neal, I know." And there, unexpectedly, on the corner of Elk and Chambers, he hauled Neal into his arms and hugged the breath out of him. "I know," he said, into the side of Neal's head, his words almost vibrating, and for the first time, Neal got what it must have been like for Peter, that day. If Neal had got on the plane, Peter would have been there, would have seen—

Peter's hug was fierce and heartfelt, and Neal hugged back just as hard, hung on like crazy, ignoring the people walking past, the city around them going about its business. He hung on and breathed, and slowly, slowly Peter relaxed his grip.

After a long while, Neal shifted his weight, and as if that were a signal, Peter let him go—perhaps they let each other go. They both stepped back, and Neal smoothed his tie and raised his eyebrows at a newsstand guy who was openly watching them. The guy smirked and looked away.

Peter cleared his throat. "Okay."

Neal turned his raised eyebrows on him.

He was a little flushed, but otherwise seemed normal, so what he said next almost didn't compute. "Okay, I'll try to pull some strings, see if I can get Alex out of the combined clutches of Interpol and the _Guardia di Finanza_."

Neal blinked. "Uh—"

"She'll have to give back the painting—that's not negotiable—but like you said, she's one of our CIs." Peter stretched out his neck, turned and started back the way they'd come, back toward the Bureau. He didn't look to check Neal was at his side. He didn't need to. "We try to take care of our people."

Neal stuck his hands in his pockets to keep from hugging him again. "I know you do," he said. "Thank you."


End file.
